


Udesiir

by VortexOfEmotions



Series: Bah Kar'taylir Darasuum (To Hold in the Heart Forever) [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Bonding, Gen, Missing Scene, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VortexOfEmotions/pseuds/VortexOfEmotions
Summary: Din reached out for the child’s teeny hand, using his gloved one to run his thumb over the rough green skin, only to realise that the kid was still trembling all over, the tough beskar armour making it difficult to immediately identify due to the lack of skin to skin touch.𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴. Din thought with dismay. One of the few things a Mandalorian couldn’t fight head on, let alone easily defeat.Set between the events of Chapters 13 & 14
Series: Bah Kar'taylir Darasuum (To Hold in the Heart Forever) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187645
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Udesiir

_Aliit ori'shya tal'din_

It wasn’t very often that the kid slept restlessly, seeing as all the little womp rat appeared to do all day long was sleep and eat. Curled up in his comfy hammock nestled above in the tightly spaced sleeping quarters, Din could just faintly hear the soft sound of whimpering coming from above his head. Din had yet to fall asleep. It wasn’t often he got enough rest, despite telling himself multiple times a day that a good night’s rest is what can make or break a success on a job, especially if it’s a rather challenging bounty.  
  


Straightening up from his foetal sleeping position, succeeding with ease as to not bump himself against the wall that was only a few inches away from him, he grunted in protest from his stiff and aching joints, wishing not for the first time that night, that he could stretch out his sore muscles in a comfortable proper bed as opposed to the cramped fatal position he had to endure in a storage unit he called a suitable sleeping quarter. Peering over the edge of the brown cloth hammock, Din caught sight of the tiny green bundle huddled inside. _Grogu._ The name felt strange on his tongue based on the few times he’s said it out loud. He’d figured the kid must have a name of course, but once he’d gotten into the habit of calling the child by the name of ‘Kid’, it’s an old habit you have to try to break.  
_But just how really save is it for the kid if I just go shouting his name out in public?_ Din wondered to himself. In spite of everything, the kid was still a well sought out bounty to many people across the galaxy. _No._ real name dropping would have to be something done in private, Din decided.

Without any sudden warning, the hammock started thrashing wildly. Grogu’s gentle whimpering had turned into a piercing cry above the low hum of the _Razor Crest_ , his small body trembling overwhelmingly with fear. For a few seconds Din froze, unsure of how to comfort the kid, but then he remembered how he would usually calm him down whenever the kid was under the weather.  
Quickly regaining himself in a composed gesture, Din placed his gloved hand on the swinging hammock to stabilise it, ready to lift the kid up in his arms if the tiny bundle managed to fall out of the safety of the hammock. “Hey kid, wake up.” Din muttered softly, his voice sounding smooth as honey.

Realising that the kid wasn’t going to wake up straight away, Din continued to murmur reassuring words to the resting child, persisting in his task to rouse him from his troubled sleep. Din’s heart went out in a moment of sympathy to the small creature, knowing from first-hand experience how the child must be feeling. Din’s posture stiffened abruptly, though his hand remained on the hammock. His own night terrors came rushing to the front of his mind, distantly remembering what little remained of his own childhood horrors during the time of the Clone Wars.

The echo of his parents abruptly cut-off screams as they were brutally slaughtered from an explosion undoubtedly caused by the battle droids who invaded their home, the memory still remaining as a raw wound for Din, even three decades later he could still recall the panic and fear mounting up inside his chest as the battle raged on above him from the hatch his parents sheltered him from the battle droids, hoping he’d be free from the oncoming slaughter. He recalled the smell of burning coming from the battlefield, the fresh air whipping his face as a Mandalorian carried him safely into the sky, riding their jetpack where Din would be taken to the Fighting Corps, to be raised as a foundling to follow the Way of the Mandalore as he became of age, swearing to a Creed of what it meant to be a true Mandalorian, the sole motive why Din, or anybody from his Tribe, never took their helmets off in front of others. His Creed being the reason Din was on this mission in the first place, to protect the foundling Grogu, his task to bring him back to his own kind, the Jedi.

 _The Jedi._ And yet, they were sworn enemies to the Mandalorians, despite the danger at hand, Din was still tasked by the Armorer to locate one, as Grogu was not an enemy threat, so he could still hand Grogu over to be reunited with his own kind. Din had sworn to the Creed to bring any foundlings the Mandalorians may come across, providing a sanctuary to those who lost their families, teaching the lost children the Way of the Mandalore, where they can choose to either walk their own paths, or to swear to the Creed to become a true Mandalorian. Inevitably repeating the cycle to any foundlings they may find in their future travels. _This is the Way._ Din reflected with purpose, accepting that he was heading down that same path his own Mandalorian saviour must have taken all those years ago.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed the memories away. Now was not the time to dwell on his own traumas of the past, right at this very moment the kid needed him, and he wasn’t going to let his own suffering get in the way of that.

It took several more minutes of Din steadying the hammock to a slow rock before the kid’s flailing got flimsier with each tender sway, until they became almost non-existent, bringing a sense of relief to Din watching the kid’s body finally being able to relax slightly from the harrowing nightmares that plagued his peaceful sleep.

But this tranquil state didn’t last the length that Din hoped it would be, with Grogu snapping open his wide, scared eyes, giving out one final terrified wail. Nevertheless, his wail was cut short upon seeing the Mandalorian standing right in front of him. Despite the child being happy to see Mando coming to his aide as he always did whenever the little one was troubled, he started to cry. These cries became subdued minor sniffles as the kid held out his arms for Mando to pick him up, one of the few ways the pair found a way to understand each other, were these small gestures.

Din sighed as he scooped the kid into his arms, his back resting against the curve of Din’s arm, so that the child’s eyes stared broadly up into Din’s shielded ones. Din sat himself down on the edge of the doorway to their sleeping quarters, the door having already been open to let in a cool breeze into the confined sleeping area, Din grunting ever so slightly at the bend of his rigid knees. Din sensed the kid’s head lean into the security of his silver, shiny beskar armour, the cold sensation he felt against his cheek feeling oh so familiar to him, that he never flinched or pulled away at the sudden chill.  
Din reached out for the child’s teeny hand, using his gloved one to run his thumb over the rough green skin, only to realise that the kid was still trembling all over, the tough beskar armour making it difficult to immediately identify due to the lack of skin to skin touch.  
_Nightmares._ Din thought with dismay. One of the few things a Mandalorian couldn’t fight head on, let alone easily defeat.

Lifting the kid up just a tad bit more so the tip of Din’s helmet brushed the top of the kid’s fuzzy miniature head, Din spoke in a cool tone, “It’s alright kid, it’s only a bad dream,” from his secure hold he gave the scared child a mini bonce, something that in usual circumstances would send the kid into gales of squeaked laughter, “dreams can’t hurt you.” He added in a hopeful attempt to to stop the child from shaking, unsure of how to handle this situation.  
_Shit._ Din cursed inwardly, not wanting the kid to pick up his choice of language. What the hell was he supposed to do? Din’s experience with kids was, up until this point in his life, very limited. Having never fathered any children of his own due to his way of life never giving him a secure opportunity to settle down, his only real experience with them was foundlings taken in by other Mandalorians, offering these foundlings a few words of encouragement as they prepared themselves for their first training session, afraid yet determined to prove themselves to their new paternal figures. Having been raised as a foundling himself, Din was able to empathise with these foundlings, knowing how scary it can be for a foundlings first proper day of learning from first-hand experience on how a Mandalorian lives their life.

Casting his thoughts back to the child cradled against his chest armour, who was currently shifting tensely in his embrace, rotating his head to stare up at the Mandalorian with those large, brown eyes of his, Din let out another sigh. He had chosen this life when he decided to take him back from the Imperials. It was his duty as a Mandalorian to take care of this foundling, persevering through all the struggles that came with raising a baby mostly on his own, often wondering to himself how he even got to be in this position in the first place. And yet, he knew he wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

Returning the child’s gaze with his covered one, (tilting his head marginally to the right so the child understood Din was looking straight back at him) Din gave the kid a supportive squeeze, bringing him closer to his armoured chest. “You’re okay kid, see? I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Grogu’s long ears perked up at the sound of the Mandalorian’s calming, peaceful voice, letting out an incomprehensible babble, his distressed whimpering ceased for the time being. Din’s attention reverted back to Grogu, discerning the way the kid was gaping up at him, almost like there was a clear understanding in the child’s eyes, fully taking in the words that Din had spoken to him. _That might be possible._ Din theorised, memorising how Ahsoka informed him that Grogu understands more than he lets on from what you tell him, confirming Din’s earlier statement to the woman that the kid can be extremely stubborn at times.

Thinking back to his prior conversation with Ahsoka scarcely the night before, Din replayed the exchange in his head; Ahsoka going into great detail of Grogu’s history at the Jedi temple on Coruscant, where he was later taken into hiding at the end of the Clone Wars, after the Galactic Empire emerged to power, the child needing to suppress his powers for years so that he could survive. However, it wasn’t long until the child was taken from the temple, his memory becoming dark, (as Ahsoka put it, Din remarked to himself). Din could imagine those sentiments of loneliness and a sense loss enveloping the mysterious child like they were his own feelings, his attention roaming yet again to the vision of his own parents deaths. Oh, how lonely he was then as the deafening screams of battle resonated in his ears, something that a child should never, ever be exposed to. While Din could emotionally connect with what Grogu had to go through before he got into the guardianship of Din’s care, Din knew that he would never truly understand the emotions of emptiness, fear, and abandonment Grogu must have experienced in all his countless years of being passed on to person to person he must have had to endure before reaching the sanctuary of the Mandalorian. After all, Din was taken in by the Mandalorians mere hours after his parents deaths, whilst Grogu, not until recently, had nobody.

Perhaps Ahsoka mentioning it caused the kid to remember bits and pieces of his past, memories he’d managed to supress over the years emerging to the surface once again, now that he was being forced to reminisce them. Din marvelled on the fact that the kid very rarely cried in general terms, in fact the only time he would ever cry would be from these nightmares, as rare as they mostly were. Maybe it was all too much for the poor kid, Din realised. What kind of horrors had this child witnessed to make him so scared, that he had to hide his abilities for so long, striving to make sure he didn’t come to any harm? Din realised he would never get a clear answer on that one. At the end of the day, it wasn’t like he was able ask the kid to tell him.

Directing his observation back down to the kid resting within his support, Din detected a sudden, minor pressure on his thumb, one that he hardly felt through the thickness of his leather gloves, only to realise that Grogu was using his entire tiny, clawed hand to grip onto Din’s thumb. A silent gesture that showed Din that the little one was for now, comfortable in this position. A common habit the kid had recently picked up on ever since their bond strengthened, was Din choosing to carry the child in the safety of his arms, but ever since Grogu’s hover pram was destroyed from the Mamacore incident, this was currently starting to become a regular occurrence (which Din had to admit he was steadily becoming used to, his arms feeling unexpectedly empty without the child nestled contently there.) It was either that or the cramped, uncomfortable shoulder bag Din slung around his shoulders, the child cooing in protest whenever Din’s knee accidentally hit the bag a somewhat too hard for Grogu’s liking.

The slight pressure on his thumb was beginning to climb in strength, (although to Din’s strongly built fingers, it still felt insignificant.) He identified this type of behaviour from the kid was him trying to tell the Mandalorian that he was starting to get restless again. His gaze still focused on the child, Din knew that he had to find another way to get the kid to relax enough so he could drift back into a peaceful sleep again. However, it only took him a few seconds to conquer up an idea. He felt rather than saw, his hand reaching instinctively into his pocket for the shiny, silver ball from the gear knob of the _Razor Crest_. His previous recollection of the wise Jedi woman evoked an image of Din stashing the ball into the pouched pocket rather hurriedly during Ahsoka’s test on Grogu’s force powers, the training session itself seeming like it happened only this past week rather than just two mornings ago.

Din swallowed back the frustration he felt developing inside him at the memory of Ahsoka in her unexpected stubborn manner, refusing to train Grogu herself due to the child forming an emotional attachment to Din, leaving the Mandalorian back at square one on his quest to bring Grogu back to his own kind.  
He made a conscious effort to let his muscles relax, not wanting to scare the kid into thinking that Din was angry with him, gently reminding himself that if he wanted to get the kid into a serene state of mind, then he too, needed to appear in a composed state.

He distinctively recalled himself awaiting in the shadows of the dark, musty forest as the Jedi pair talked telepathically, pacing back and forth the same few steps he made countless times by this point, ready and waiting to be summoned to come join them, not daring to disturb their seemingly important conversation. But as the memory faded, his earlier anger only seemed to burn ever the more brightly. _Breathe slowly._ Din counselled himself in a shabby attempt to melt away his temper.  
Yet simply attempting to focus on his steady breathing only brought Din back to the one question swirling around in his head, feeling like he was on a spinning ship that didn’t feel like it would be slowing its course anytime soon. That one question Din wasn’t able to figure out if he even wanted an answer to right now; had the kid really grown that attached to him in such an insignificant amount of time? Din estimated it couldn’t have been more than a couple of months since he first accepted that job on Nevarro, a job he never would have expected to bring a foundling into his care, choosing to forget his earlier coldness towards the small green bundle of laughs, endeavouring to avoid forming any sort of connection with him.

It was at times like this that Din wished the kid could talk to him. He wanted nothing more in the world right now than to know wither the kid’s attachment for him really stretched that deep, or if it was merely a slight exaggeration on Ahsoka’s part. She had even gone to the lengths of pointing out that the kid had deemed him as a sort of father figure. Din supposed that theory may be possible, He too after all-

 _No._ He stopped himself before he was able to linger on the thought for too long. He became aware of the fact long ago that he shouldn’t be thinking about the kid in that sort of regard, acknowledging in his heart of hearts that he mustn’t get too attached to the kid himself as goodbyes was only inevitable at this point. He had almost said goodbye to the kid just this morning, fully prepared to send him on his way to learn the ways of the Jedi with Ahsoka until she directed that Din take the child to Tython, to be placed upon the seeing stone where a Jedi may be able to detect him. In a sort of selfish way, Din was kind of relieved that Grogu was still in his care. Of course, he still wanted the kid to be trained as a Jedi, he’d seen what true power the little one could harness, despite the kid not being at full strength. However, if it meant getting to spend more time with the little womp rat, then that was fine with Din. Never minding the fact that it was Grogu who would decide which path he wanted to take, wither that would be to become a true Jedi or to stay travelling with Mando. Din, once again, pushed this question to the back of his head. He had a job to do, to deliver this child to a Jedi so the kid would be properly trained.

Clutching the silver ball with his gloved hand, Din drew it out from his side pouch. Almost immediately, recognition dawned on Grogu’s face as he caught sight of his favourite inanimate object, his eyes brightening up whilst stretching out his tiny hands in the air to grasp at it.

“Here you go kid.” Din spoke with a kind type of quality about him. At the same time, he handed the ball over to Grogu, hearing the kid’s happy squeal of delight as his claws made a quiet clinking noise against its reflective surface. Hugging the child in the protection of his study build, he lowered his head to gaze down at the child. Seeing the kid go from the most frightened state Din had ever seen him, to his usual, curious, giggling self again, made Din all the more happier that he cast a hidden smile underneath his helmet, almost forgetting that the kid couldn’t see it.

The ball barely fitted in the palm of Grogu’s small, wrinkled hand. Din felt the kid’s whole body vibrating as he hummed delightedly at his prized toy, utterly transfixed by the silver sphere. Din couldn’t help but notice how Grogu would closely examine the ball much like how Din would with a new weapon, wanting to become familiar with its structure, how the weight of it would handle in his skilled hands, taking the spare time before setting out on a job to outline any weaknesses that might drag him down and put him at risk.

He wasn’t sure what it was about the ball that was so fascinating to the kid, but if it kept him occupied whenever Din was busy working on the _Razor Crest_ , then Din shouldn’t really complain. And above all right now, Din found himself feeling practically grateful that the ball managed to keep the child’s mind off his harrowing nightmares that only less than fifteen minutes ago, had the kid shaking from the tips of his ears right down to the ends of his claws.

With Grogu letting out an unintelligible coo that brought Din’s concentration back to the present, the Mandalorian slid his fingers underneath Grogu’s free hand, using his giant thumb (in relation to Grogu’s miniature one,) to give the bumpy hand an encouraging rub, to which Grogu gave a throaty purr in response. Clutching the ball tightly in his one handed grasp, almost as if he was afraid of Din taking it away from him yet again. _I’ve got to find him a more suitable toy to get attached too._ Din considered with mild amusement.  
At this very moment, just seeing the kid tucked here, happily inspecting his favourite toy without a care in the world brought a sense of serenity to Din. It was a nice change of pace to the bounty hunter to simply sit down and spend some quality time with the kid without having to worry about a blaster targeted on the child’s wrinkled head. He admitted to himself that he had grown soft since the kid entered his life. He acknowledged that he wasn’t as reckless in fights, understanding that he now had a child to take care of, a child that needed him, that if Din ended up dying, the kid would be all alone again, and that was something Din couldn’t even bare to think about.

He didn’t feel like he needed to act all tough and cold-hearted when it was only him and the child during these rare, quiet moments aboard the _Razor Crest,_ that Din was finding it harder and harder to deny the fact that he somewhat _enjoyed_ these moments with him. Almost like a fath-

“I may not know what has spooked you kid, but I can promise to keep you safe.” Din swiftly blurted out, trying to stop his previous thought from emerging to the surface.

Grogu mewled out a pitiful babble before letting out a huge yawn, the insides of his pink mouth on full display as he emanated a high pitched shrill, his eyes fluttering open and closed shortly afterwards.

Din saw how hard the kid was trying desperately to stay awake, his broad, brown eyes drooping with every even breath he took. His responding mew was enough to convince Din that he at least somewhat understood what the Mandalorian had declared. Nevertheless, it didn’t matter to Din whether or not the kid could begin to comprehended the meaning behind that promise. No matter what, Din would always keep the child out of harm’s way.

Continuing to stay in that same position for quite some time, Din wasn’t sure the exact amount of time the pair had sat like this, only that eventually, Grogu finally managed to fall into a deep sleep, his grip on Din’s thumb loosening with each tender snore he took. His warm breath tickling against the exposed area of Din’s sleeved arm.

Lifting himself up from his narrow bunk, Din failed to contain a chuckle as he took in the sight of a sleeping Grogu with the ball still in his grip, his hold on the shiny object beginning to slacken the more he slept into a profound slumber. Din was just about to very carefully pry the ball away from Grogu’s gripped hand, only to pull away in a moment’s hesitation, realising that it would be considered cruel of him to make the kid part with his comfort object now, not when it brought him a momentary respite from his terrifying night terrors.

Settling the child back into the cosy hammock situated above Din’s head, tucking his Mythosaur pendent back neatly into his robe after becoming visible from all of Grogu’s prior thrashing, the Mandalorian gave two final strokes to Grogu’s hand, the beginnings of a rare smile forming at the edge of his lips, concealed by his helmet. “ _Jate ca ad'ika._ Sweet dreams.” Din murmured.

Manoeuvring himself back into the tightly spaced bunk, Din shifted himself back into his usual sleeping position, before hitting several buttons on the control panel of his Mandalorian vambrace, which caused to shut the door of the bunker behind him. Feeling pretty content that the kid was going to rest easy for the rest of the night, Din closed his eyes, acknowledging the fact that it was currently safe to fall asleep for himself.

Believing in a sense of satisfaction that he was longer needed for the night, Din slowly drifted into his own deep sleep, the last sound his brain registered before slipping into unconsciousness, was the kid’s regular, stable breathing.

_Family is more than blood._

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I’m sure there’s so many mistakes in this, but I’m so glad it’s finally done. I’ve been working on this for about a month now to help combat writer’s block on a different story I’m working on, but this was still so much fun to write. This is my first time writing anything Star Wars related, but I hoped you all still enjoyed.
> 
> As you can see, all stories are going to have their titles in Mando'a. I don’t know how accurate the translations are, or even if I’ll continue putting them in Mando'a since the language itself is very limited when compared to what I want the story to be called. For example, I wanted this story to simply be called Nightmares, but there is no word for that in Mando'a, so I had to get creative. (I also tried Night Terrors) I’m not even sure if the 'good night kid' is even translated correctly lmao.
> 
> This was also my first time uploading a Fanfic to the internet. Decided to swallow my pride and put this one out there as I thought some people might enjoy it. Better than sitting on my laptop’s hard drive slowly collecting dust. I’m still trying to figure out how A03’s site works, hahaha.  
> I actually have a couple more stories planned out, so if you all would like some updates on what’s to come, I’m going to start using my Twitter and Tumblr accounts more often, so give those a follow if you’d like to see some frequent updates, as well as come see me talk about anything Star Wars related. Links are in my profile.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. All feedback is welcome!


End file.
